


Confessions of an American

by xxELF21xx



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Francis plays cupid, Love Confessions, M/M, Rape Aftermath, Student!England, Teacher!France, country names used, teacher!America
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-04 23:22:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4156842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxELF21xx/pseuds/xxELF21xx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the Academy, America is the loud and cheery teacher, but when a new year rolls by, America finds it hard to concentrate when one of his students catches his eye. France, on the other note, tries to take England as his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confessions of an American

**Author's Note:**

> I realise that I always write these three together. . .  
> Welllllllll~, we have Teacher!England×Student!America, so I thought, 'why not have it the other way 'round?  
> And this was what I got.

'. . . . And so, the— ' America paused when he heard a faint snicker. He whirled around, blue eyes landing on a mass of students that huddled around a desk. America frowned. He walked to the desk, gave a little cough, and the students scrambled back to their seats. 'I expect all answers in by the end of this lesson, all of them to be correct.' The class groaned.

The student at that particular desk, however, had already finished the entire worksheet. It was tucked neatly under his pencilcase. The student was sleeping. In America's class. 'Mr. Kirkland.' America sighed, 'is my class so boring you have to sleep in it?' Said student peeked an emerald orb open, and closed it again. 

He sat up, righting his blazer, 'I apologise, Mr. America. It's just, I didn't have enough sleep last night.' The student sent a glare toward the boy sitting behind him. America cursed inwardly. It wasn't fair that England had the nicest voice and looks. England had green eyes —a lot like emeralds, but they would appear turquiose sometimes— rather thick eyebrows, faint skin, sharp features, and a very smooth British accent that sounded very high-class. England looked expectantly at America, as if daring America to rebute. America sighed and walked back to the front, continuing his lesson, ignoring the winning smirk plastered onto the boy's face.

Sometimes, he really wished England wasn't so cute.

France walked past America's class at that moment, popping his head in. 'Amérique, can I have a moment to talk to you?' America nodded, warning the class —with a grin— to do their work. 'Sup, dude!' America grinned. France shook his head, 'how's your little crush?' America's grin dropped, cheeks reddening. 'What?' He choked, 'how'd you— ' France chuckled, giving America the "I'm French, I just know" look. 'Anyway, to tell you the truth, that boy of yours—' America reddened again '—really is something. His language is perfect, all the other languages he took; he had a 87% average. All of them. I'm impressed.' America rolled his eyes, 'not my prob', how did you find out?' 

France stared at America dumbly, 'I'm from the Lanuage Department, cher!' America smiled. 'If you don't want him, watch out for other suitors!' Waving, America slammed the door, shutting France out. He even poked his tongue out. 'That was rather rude.' America almost shrieked when England made that comment. 'Make some noise when you walk!' England frowned, 'but that would be rude.' America could only gape as England handed him the worksheet. And promptly  _left the class._

What. The. Hell.

A bark of laughter sounded from the class. 'OH GOSH!' Australia wheezed, 'should'a seen your face, prof!' America rolled his eyes, resuming another boring day of being Proffesor America. He would settle England, later. 

The day dragged into weeks, into months.

-

Every month lulled in like a storm, England —it would seem— is really popular with girls and boys alike. Due to his accent, students flock around him at times, and England does his best to avoid the crowd. This is what makes America confused. Does he not like crowds? Is he claustrophobic?

America pauses in his tracks and feels his stomach twist into knots. Maybe, maybe, England's got a girlfriend. America shoves the English student into one side of his mind —maybe out of his mind— and continues to the path of his next class. He pauses for a moment or two, straining his ears. He hears a muffled squeal, and France's obvious French accent. He was about to ignore it when he heard England's voice. His eyes widened,  _" if_ _you don't want him, watch out for other suitors!"_ Was that what France meant? 'No. Please! Professor Francis, please let me get to my next class!' England pleaded.

'Oh? But you don't need to go to that class. America has told me countless times you can skip the class!' France's reply made America want to punch him. Sure, he said that, but he didn't mean it like that. He quickened his footpace to get to France and England. Another muffled sound and a thump against the wall. America felt his world tip at the scene in front of him. England's eyes were red and shiny, uniform a skewered mess, belt undone and zipper down. England seemed to curl in on himself and hide away into the wall behind him as he spotted America. France, it would seem, just smiled politely at America. America growled lowly, and France took the hint to release the trapped boy.

England ran all the way to America, a sobbing, trembling, upset, England. 'What the  _actual fuck,_ France?! Why'd you do that?!' France let out an apologetic shrug. 'I thought I might as well take him, since you didn't want him.' England's trembling soothed a little, but America could feel his heart beat. Strong, and faster than before.  _He hates me, he hates me, he hates me._  England lets out a whimper when America soothes him. France was gone. America lifts England up bridal style. 'C'mon! You're going back to your dorm. We can't have you in class like this.' England stays silent the whole time, crying into America's shirt. America's grin falters and leaves.

The only time England responds is to point out which dorm he lives in. America knocks on the door, hoping no one was there, and the door opens. Australia's face is shown to be pale. 'England?! What— prof? What happened?' America ignores Australia —'go to class, Australia, I heard New Zealand is going out with Wy.'— and Australia makes a run for class.

England's still crying. America attempts to straighten his uniform, but England flinched and mummurs an 'I'm sorry'. America locates his clothes and gets him to change —England refuses to let someone else touch him— and lays England down. Covering England in a blanket, America apologises. 'I'm sorry, if I was fast enough, I would've stopped him. I should've warned ya' 'bout him. Sorry.' England looks up at him, eyes wide, 'was what he said true, though?' He asked, voice soft and not at all hoarse from the crying. America flushed a bright red, 'u-um, eh, ye-yeah. Yes, I wanted you.' England flinched again. 'Wanted. Past tense. Present tense,  _want._  To wish, need, crave, demand, or desire. To feel inclined. Sometimes wanted or needed.' England fell silent again.

America knew he was intelligent. But to literally single out a word and tell it's meanings? Did England read a dictionary for sport? Probably.  _Wanted. Past tense. Sometimes wanted or needed._ Wait. What?

'No! I mean, I still want you!' America yelped. 'Forever—' He cut himself off by slamming a hand over his traitorous mouth. England looked up to him, eyes glowing and only the eyes poking out of the blanket. 'Really?' A muffled voice asked. America flushed deeper and nodded. England leapt out to hug him so fast the blanket fell to the floor. He felt England smile against the material of his shirt. 'No one's said that to me before.' England mumbled. America laughed, 'I'm the first! Awesome!' England burrowed his head in shame. 'Though, do you want me?' America threw in carelessly. 

America had never seen England so red and flustered before. 

_Sometimes, America wished that England would remain this cute forever._

'Oi, England,' England's head emerged from America's chest, America leaned to give a bruising kiss to the boy. 

* * *

 

'NEW ZEAAAAAALLLAAAAAND!' Australia shouted to the brunet Kiwi. New Zealand only had time to register a warning before a body collided into him from behind. New Zealand squawked loudly, shoving Australia aside. 'What was that for?' He asked, rubbing at his back. Australia looked upset, majorly upset. 'Prof told me you were dating that girl from Marine Bio, Wy. True?' New Zealand blushed lightly, shaking his head; the two stubborn curls of hair shaking. Australia frowned —and scowled?— before scooping New Zealand into his arms. 'Huh?' The Kiwi squeaked, as he was carried into Marine Biology. 'Hey! Wy!' Australia shouted to the girl, Wy ran cheerfully to greet him. But before anything could be said from the girl, Australia leaned down and kissed New Zealand.

New Zealand's eyes widened, blush in full force, as he kissed back slightly. 'You're  _mine._ ' Australia growled softly in New Zealand's ear. The Kiwi nodded meekly.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for making France the villian. And England getting //almost// raped by France. I'm sorry.  
> AHHHHH. NEW ZEALAND AND AUSTRALIA AT THE ENDDDDD. XC I'm sorry for having a sucky OzNz moment.  
> And it turns out, this story was absolute cow dung as well. I'm sorry.


End file.
